Chapter 11 Swirly lines
Severin
I send my bag into the wall as soon as I walk inside my apartment, it slams into something that’s already there, making everything rattle to the floor, but ask me if I give a fuck. Planting my hands on either side of my front door, I lean against it and try to get my breathing under control.
Three games in a row. Three fucking games lost because of me. I don’t remember the last time I played so shit. No, shit is simply not the right word.
Hockey is my life. If I don’t have hockey, what else do I have?
I’ve lost everything else.
The phone vibrates inside my pocket at that precise moment, and when I glance at the caller ID, I huff out a humorless laugh. “Universe, you really do have a sick sense of humor.”
I lift the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Severinchik,” my mom coos in Russian, using my childhood pet name. “When are you coming for dinner? I haven’t seen my son in months.”
In our culture, we don’t waste time on polite chit-chat. Or it might be just my lovely family, but who am I to stray from traditions and get straight to business?
“Is father still breathing?”
She sighs, exasperated with me. “Yes.”
“Shame,” I deadpan without an ounce of emotion. “I guess call me when things change.”
“Severin! You cannot go around saying that!” Mom snaps.
“Only because you thrive in your role of the victim, doesn’t mean I do too. Sorry, those genes skipped me.”
She gasps just before her tone picks up a few notches. “Severin—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m the problem here. I know, but I’m not in the mood to discuss how big of a disappointment I’ve turned out to be. Good talk, Mother.”
I go to hang up when she sneaks in another question, knowing I won’t be able to ignore it.
“You are planning to come to Katerina’s engagement party, right?
” My little ballerina cousin is the only relative I consider family, and not so long ago she managed to fall in love with a biker slash hip hop dancer who looks like he’ll kill you if you as much as look wrong in his fiancée’s direction.
The details of that relationship are murky, but I was never one to stick my nose in other people’s business—unless, apparently, you happen to be the main character of my nightmares and the most gorgeous single mom with the most brilliant kid—so I’m still surprised Katerina’s rich asshole parents, also known as my aunt and uncle allowed this marriage to happen.
But I’ve never been more proud of anyone for sticking their ground.
“Yes, I’ll be there for Katerina.”
“Good.” I can practically see my mother’s snobby nose tilt up as if she’s the one who orchestrated me showing up there. “You need to respond to the RSVP. Aunt Maria needs to know if you’re bringing a plus one.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no? You’re still not seeing anyone?”
Why did she have to call today of all days? Why, when I’m already barely holding on?
My fingers tighten around the phone. “No, Mother. I am not seeing anyone after my wife died. Sorry, I’m such a disappointment and don’t have at least five lovers on the side like Father.”
This time it’s mom who hangs up the phone, leaving a blessed silence around a loud emptiness surrounding me.
I’ve never had an easy relationship with my father and that’s putting it mildly. I wasn’t the son he envisioned, and he was a far cry from father of the year. Mom always tried to remain neutral—or rather, detached—and I understood that, accepted it even.
Until five years ago when he took it a step too far, yet she remained at his side.
Russian media calls them the power couple of the century. Soulmates. I snort out a laugh. I guess you can become one if the price is right. And father is not one of the most prominent businessmen in the world for nothing, right?
Money. It’s always about fucking money and power.
I take a deep breath, dumping thoughts of my family into a trash can where they belong and straighten up, taking a step toward my bedroom…
only to stop dead right away. A piece of paper with doodles on it is lying amongst other things I sent flying when I threw my bag.
It’s partially crumbled, and I can see a corner ripping off.
Emett’s tender eyes flash in front of my own. It’s the drawing Emett gave for saving his mom.
I bend down, picking up the crumbled paper and stare at the massive blue bloop that was supposed to be me. A pink slightly smaller one that’s Aurora, and a tiny one holding a hockey stick on the side that’s Emett.
I was supposed to put it in my office, along with other gifts I get from the fans and forget about it.
That was the plan after I promised myself to never go back to Iris Lake.
But with every second that I sit here, watching all the swirly lines crossing and twisting like our lives, a fist tightens around my heart.
Every night this past week I saw her. In my nightmares.
Or rather, they started out as such, but quickly morphed into dreams of that one single light in her eyes.
It was pulling me in closer and closer. It was so warm and lovely.
Until the nightmare came back and the light in my lychik’s eyes was snuffed out by a dark cloud.
My mind is spinning, my heart tearing itself apart because every fiber of my being wants to go to her. It wants to stay close, to make sure no one else can hurt them.
What is it about her that I can’t let go off? Is it that light? Is it the storm we’re caught in together?
I get up, storm into the kitchen and tear every drawer open. No magnets. Where are the fucking magnets? I slam them all shut then stroll into the office and pick up a pin.
“This will do.”
Before I snatch my keys up from the floor and do something I shouldn’t, I look over my shoulder toward the ebony cabinets in the kitchen. Yep, the painting looks perfect pinned to it.
Pleased with my handy work, I leave.
Just once. Just one more time.
I need to see her. I need to make sure they’re okay before I’ll be the one who needs help.
With every mile closer to Iris Lake, a little part of me eases up. Like a fist that’s wound tight, slowly loosening its grip and I’m not sure if it should comfort me…
There’s a reason I’ve always kept my relationships surface level—because I don’t like to feel out of control, and showing emotion or having someone else hold your heart is the best way to control that person. And I stopped craving that type of connection a long time ago.
I especially want nothing to do with that after my wife.
My life fits into well-organized boxes and they don’t fit into any one of them.
So how come it physically hurts to be away from Aurora and Emett?
Another hour and a detour to a department stores nearby, I’m taking the exit for their town, not having a clue where I’m actually going. I’m sure Aurora is out working, right? And Emett? Does he go to daycare? Preschool?
It stopped snowing a few days ago as we finally transitioned into spring. But still, the overcast sky is turning gloomier by the minute and my soul resonates with the weather.
Fucking hell, I know absolutely nothing about them—I didn’t allow myself to know—yet for some reason they feel like mine. Make that make sense heart? Make it fucking make sense…
No, I don’t know much about them, but I didn’t lie to Aurora.
If I want something, I made sure it’s mine.
I’ve never wanted anything apart from hockey before, though, so it might take a second to navigate these new waters I decided to tread, but I’ll turn this whole sleeping town upside down if that’s what it takes.
I’ll find them, make sure they’re fine, and leave.
Mm-hmm, keep selling that bullshit to yourself, Severin.
My car settles into the same spot I was parked in a week ago, hidden from the view of their house, as I look for any signs of life.
An hour passes without any movement around the house.
I should’ve come sooner. I should’ve been here to make sure those lowlifes didn’t show up again.
I should’ve pushed Aurora to call the police last week.
I should’ve…my mind starts spiraling out of control when I hear it.
Laughter. I hear a laugh, and a breath I didn’t realize I was holding whooshes out of me.
Emett. I’d know that sound in my sleep. Somehow, I’m sure I’d know it. And he’s laughing. Hungrily, my eyes search for that small boy and his mama, but it’s not Aurora I spot coming out of the house holding Emett’s hand.
Who the fuck is that with my Emett? Where are they taking him? He’s laughing, sure, but kids can be tricked. They’re innocent and Emett is the purest of them all. I’m out of the car, and almost halfway across the road to snatch him away from possible danger when my brain makes the connection.
Stella Gray, Coach Hill’s friend and the one who got Exton the babysitting gig with Electra is the one holding Emett’s hand and guiding him into a white sedan. And in the other…something cracks in my chest…in his other hand, he’s clutching Kevin the police bear.
The one I got him.
I fall back into my seat, my head hitting the headrest as I sigh heavily. The fuck is wrong with me? But since I’m in no mood to answer my own stupid questions, I start the car and follow Stella’s.
I just need to make sure they are safe. That’s all. That’s all I need, and I’ll leave.
There are only about two stop lights for the entire town of Iris Lake so it doesn’t take all that long for Stella to reach her destination on the Main Street. Blade’s Pub is written on top of the entrance of the red brick building that is swarmed with locals and tourists alike for an early dinner.
Quickly, I pull out my phone and google Blade’s. I’m scrolling through until my thumb freezes, hovering over a picture. Aurora works here.
My eyes lift to the pub that’s getting rowdier and rowdier by the minute. I can hear the happy hour lovers hollering and laughing all the way here.
And she’s working there. With that chaos. Surrounded by a bunch of drunk fuckers who salivate over her.
“She’s fine.” I take a steadying breath. “She’s a big girl and can take care of herself. I made sure everyone is alive and well, haven’t I?”
That’s when I see Stella rushing out the door, alone. No Emett in sight, and my fingers start to drum against the steering wheel.
I get out of the car, pushing the door to Blade’s open. I fucking hate that she’s twisting me up like that. What the fuck happened to simply making sure they’re fine and leaving, hmm?
I guess it’s never going to be enough…